The Songbird and the Willow Tree
by VellichorNovelist
Summary: A collection of unrelated Tara and Willow drabbles, ranging from 50-500 words! Get ready for laughter, tears and crazy AUs! The rating won't go above T. #1 'Nightmares': Tara is plagued by nightmares, and Willow is haunted by the death of her best friend. Grief never really goes away.
1. Nightmares

**Title:** Nightmares  
 **Prompt:** Nightmares  
 **Word Count:** 551  
 **Rating:** T  
 **Summary** : Tara is plagued by nightmares, and Willow is haunted by the death of her best friend. Grief never really goes away.

 **A/N:** Here is the first instalment of a series of Tillow drabbles (short stories of 50-500 words). The rating won't go over T, and please feel free to send me prompts through either reviews or private messages. I hope you enjoy! :3

* * *

 _Fingers were probing Tara's mind. Searing agony erupted wherever they touched, driving her to the edge of madness- until there was nothing. Just green light and pale glory, fading into a flash of purple. There was a dark, black sky, rolling on for ever and ever. Suddenly there was a body from it, tumbling towards the ground like an abel cast from Heaven-_

CRASH. Tara let out a shriek at the noise, scrambling awake. She fumbled for the lamp beside her bed, her heart thundering as she turned it on. The clock next to it read 10pm, and Tara was surprised at how early it was. On the carpet rolled an empty glass, and she sighed shakily with relief. She must have knocked it off her bedside table in her sleep.

Tara curled up into a ball. She drew her blankets around her, and her skin prickled as she thought of her dream, remembering the awful feeling of having her sanity ripped away by Glory the hell god. That had only been a few weeks ago, and her mood dropped even further as she thought of what had happened since.

She missed Buffy.

They all did, of course, especially Willow and Dawn. Poor Dawn, her heart twisted as she thought what the girl must be going through. Fourteen years old, and her entire family dead. Tears burnt the back of her eyes, unbidden and unwanted.

"Tara?" She looked up, smiling weakly as she saw who it was. There was Willow, standing at the door. There was Willow, her fiery hair in a messy bun and a half eaten sandwich in her hand. Jam oozed from its' crust.

"Baby?" Willow was on the bed now, wrapping Tara in a warm and sticky hug. "What's wrong? I hard a noise. Dawnie and I were watching TV but I thought I might check on you just in-"

"I had a bad dream," Tara mumbled into Willows shoulder, wincing at the hot, fat blobs of tears running down her face.

Willow set the sandwich down onto the covers. "What about?" She asked gently.

"I-" Tara hiccuped a little. "I was with Glory... And then there was B-Buffy. And- then there was a loud noise. I'm not sure, but it was really, really scary and there was Glory and we were back on the bench and she-" her voice had risen in pitch as she became more distraught.

"Hey," Willow stroked Tara's hair in attempt to calm her down. "It's okay. You're okay, see? No Glory. No one is gonna mess with your mind again- they're gonna have to go through me first!"

Tara smiled a little.

"You're okay," Willow continued firmly. "Nothing can hurt you."

Tara nodded slowly, feeling at least a small bit comforted. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"It's no problem," her girlfriend leaned forward and kissed Tara's forehead. "Do you think you can get back to sleep? We can go downstairs. Dawnie's watching Star Wars!"

"Star Wars sounds good."

"Okay, then!" Willow smiled. "If we're quick there might still be some popcorn left."

As they walked downstairs, arms linked, Tara pretended not to notice Willow flinch at the beeping of the Buffybot.

They had a long way to go.


	2. Bullet Speed

**Title:** Bullet Speed  
 **Rating:** T for violence and murder  
 **Summary:** Everybody dies. And it's always sudden.  
 **Prompt:** Idk I was watching Seeing Red  
 **Word count:** 407

 **A/N:** Thanks to liester for following, I'm glad you enjoyed it so much! *high fives*

* * *

Tara hummed a tune as she danced by the window, breathing in the scent of freshly cut grass and sunshine. A slow, infectious smile curved her lips, spreading up her face and into her eyes as she turned towards Willow to suggest they go outside- they couldn't exactly spend all day in bed, after all. Not when the day was so warm and bright, and the birds were singing... She laughed a little to herself at the cliché description.

Suddenly there was a blood-chilling BANG, BANG and a scream from the garden below. Birds erupted from the trees, fleeing for their lives. There was the noise of glass shattering, and the all-too familiar stench of blood.

But Tara noticed none of this, scrabbling against the window sill a little as she gasped for air. Shock so intense that she wondered if she was going to faint flooded through her, setting fire to her insides and fading to nothing as quickly as it had come. She wasn't aware of the blood seeping onto her blue shirt, looking like a brilliant rose against a summer sky. She wasn't aware of the sunshine on her skin, which had felt so warm a second ago. She wasn't aware of the sprinkles of glass which littered the floor at their feet. Tara's attention was on Willow, who moved as though she was stuck in caramel, her eyes widening in horror and her mouth opening in surprise agonisingly slowly.

She wished she could reassure Willow that she was okay, that she hadn't been injured, but her attention was snatched away as her gaze focused on red splotches of colour on her shirt. On _Willow's shirt_. Something like concern filtered into her mind, and she went to move forward- to fuss over Willow, to kiss her better and make sure that she wasn't hurt- but she was frozen, too heavy to move. Once again Tara sucked in a breath, her vision flashed... Something was going wrong, but the blood on Willow's shirt- she had to make sure that she was okay- she tried to-

"Your shirt." A tongue like lead, Tara spoke, and took another breath to continue speaking. But, before she could continue, her legs gave way and buckled beneath her weight. She fell forward, her eyes fluttering shut for the last time.

Tara Maclay was dead before she hit the floor.


	3. The Witch and the Wardrobe

**Title:** The Witch and the Wardrobe  
 **Word Count:** 459  
 **Prompt:** If you could live in any fictional story, which one would you choose?  
 **Rating** : K  
 **Summary:** Willow and Tara go for a walk. They discuss Queens, Narnia and stories.

 **A/N:** Not uploading for 7 months? More likely than you think. I'm not sure about this, but hopefully I will like my writing more as I get back into the rhythm.

* * *

"If you could live in any story, which one would you choose?" Willow asked. It was, she thought, a question which was as old as imagination- and lead down so many routes and to so many interesting ideas, she found it was often her go-to conversation started. She waited for Tara to answer, wondering if she already knew what her girlfriend would say.

"Oh, you can't ask that!" Tara laughed, swinging their hands into their air as they walked. They were slowly on their way home, strolling past the park Tara loved so much. "There's way too many to choose from!"

"But which would you go for?" Willow pressed, laughing as well. She basked in Tara's smile, in her happiness.

"Hmm..." Tara paused to think, slowing her pace. Then she finally spoke: "Narnia."

"Narnia?!" Willow grinned, having guessed right.

"Yes, Narnia! Me and Aslan would be best friends and I would ask Queen Susan to marry me."

"I feel replaced," Willow pouted, elbowing her girlfriend. "Couldn't we both just be Queen? Ruling side by side?"

Tara shook her head. "We're not of Royal blood," she explained. "Although that would be fun."

"Well, then." Willow felt put out. "Is _Susan_ of Royal blood?!"

"She- she-" Tara stopped, indignant. "Have you even read the books?"

"Yes," Willow spoke defensively, which was true. "Just a long time ago." Which was also true.

"Then you'll know," they resumed their walking at Tara spoke. Gravel crunched under their feet, and it must've been hot under the Californian sun. "That Susan was of Royal blood. She was the one with the bow and arrow."

"Bow and arrow," Willow muttered, more to wind Tara up then anything else, "what's so great about a bow and arrow?! I have magic! I can destroy that bow and arrow with a snap of my fingers!"

"You wouldn't dare! Not Susan!" Tara laughed. "And anyway, you don't have that sort of power."

"Not yet!" Willow grinned. "But one day I'll be the most powerful witch in the Western hemisphere! Just you wait!"

"I will look forward to it," Tara stuck her tongue out at Willow and mock curtsied. "My Queen."

Willow laughed and curtsied back, repeating: "My Queen."

"Which story would you choose?" Tara asked after a moment.

Willow paused- there were so many answers, of course. When she was younger she would've said Star Wars, or that she wanted to be Xena. Now her mind was blank and she turned to look at Tara: her red lips, her blonde hair, her gorgeous eyes and the way they seemed to be the colour of magic itself. Finally, Willow spoke.  
"I like this story the best. With you."


End file.
